Seeing
by DreamingOwl
Summary: Fred sees her. Hermione learns to see him in return. A Fred/Hermione twoshot in honor of the birthday girl.
1. Chapter 1

Happy Birthday Hermione!

I really don't have the time to have written this, but oh well. I think this is the first time I've ever written a Fred/Hermione piece. It's different. Not necessarily my OTP, but a paring I favor.

Anyway, I don't own this, yeah? That applies to this chapter and the next.

* * *

"Here," a vial is shoved under Hermione's nose.

"Fred? What?" The bushy-haired fifth year blinks and leans backward. A long arm still extended holds out a potion.

"You're sick," he points out the pile of tissues Hermione hadn't bothered to vanish, "since you weren't going to go to Madame Pomfrey, I thought I'd bring the remedy to you."

"Did you steal this?" She asks, her normal reprimanding tone less effective when masked by congestion.

"No, I brewed it," Fred shakes his head, "now, drink."

Hermione uncaps the vial and downs the potion. Steam pours out of her ears.

Fred vanishes.

* * *

"I never got a chance to thank you," Hermione catches up to him in a hallway a few days later.

"It was nothing," Fred brushes her off.

"You noticed I was sick and brewed a potion for me, that wasn't nothing," she keeps struggling to match his pace.

"Someone had to look out for you," he shrugs.

"It didn't have to be you," she pulls him to a stop with her free hand, "So, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Your secret's safe with me," she leans up and brushes a kiss against his cheek. Fred freezes, muscles locking tight.

Hermione vanishes.

* * *

He's alone in the common room one night, George off with Alicia. Hermione watches, bites her lip, and decides. She joins him in the corner, perching on the arm of the chair across from him.

"Hermione, to what do I owe the pleasure?" His stare breaks away from the fire to fix upon her.

"How did you only get three O.W.L.s when you're so much smarter than that?"

Fred smiles and rises, looming over her.

"One day you'll learn that tests aren't everything," he steps closer, then bends, dropping a kiss on her crown.

Sliding into the chair, she thinks.

* * *

Hermione throws herself down into one of the common room chairs, fumbling with her bag as she pulls out homework, her hair and the tears in her eyes obscuring her vision.

A warm, solid palm settles in the space between her shoulders. "What's wrong?" Fred rumbles quietly, settling on the arm of her chair. Hermione presses her face to his side.

"A fight with my brother then," he sighs.

"You know, if you stopped trying to make yourself love him, he wouldn't make you so miserable."

They sit quietly until George calls for him.

When he looks back, she's gone.

* * *

Hermione watches Fred planning, George at his side, Lee with Angelia and Katie on the other side of the room. It's how she knows they're talking about Umbridge, not the joke shop.

George runs upstairs and Hermione slips over to Fred.

"Come to tell me it's a bad idea?" He raises a brow.

Hermione shakes her head. "No, I came to tell you you're very brave."

Fred's lips curl upward into a smile and he extends a hand to her. Hermione lets herself be guided into his lap and pulled into a hug.

"Keep things running here once we're gone."


	2. Chapter 2

Being sixteen has its perks. Her parents trust her, and she finds herself with the freedom to roam. She makes her way to Diagon Alley, a cloak around her shoulders and its hood covering her hair.

The shop stands out, orange against the gray, things moving and making noise. She smiles and heads inside.

Business is already booming. Products she had never seen them work on line the shelves and the queue twists around the aisles. For a moment, she fears she won't be able to find him. She brushes the hood away from her face so she can see better.

"As I live and breathe, what brings you here Miss Granger?"

Hermione turns, a smile already stretching across her face, "I thought I'd come to see you."

Fred gives her one of those looks, one of the ones that make her feel like he knows everything about her, and extends a hand. She grasps it without hesitation and he pulls her behind him, into the back of the shop and up a flight of stairs. The loft space is simple, two camp beds, chairs and a table, a sofa, and the wizarding equivalent of a camp stove.

"It's not Versailles, but we're rarely up here to appreciate it," he catches her eye, a glint in his as she looks around, "Tea?"

"No thank you," she shakes her head. Her cloak is tossed over one of the chairs. They move to the couch. It's garish, with green and orange stripes.

Fred doesn't speak. Hermione knows why. He's waiting on her. Has been waiting on her for a while.

"How long?" She asks, eventually.

"Long enough," He replies. Their eyes meet and he gives in, "Long enough to have realized my brothers were idiots to value you less than a broomstick."

That he'd called Harry his brother just confirms her opinion, solidifies her intent.

"I've been driving you mad then."

"Mmm," he agrees. "I almost approved of Krum, if only because he seemed like he would value you properly."

"Almost?"

"I _am_ selfish, Hermione. Don't start believing I'm some kind of saint, you'll be disappointed."

She chuckles, "I'm pretty sure you don't look out for deaf people, so I can't say that I'll confuse you."

Fred snorts. Things fall silent as she tries to find words. None come to her, but then she tilts her head. Maybe words aren't what she needs.

She shifts, pushing any anxiety to the back of her mind. She presses forward, till she's on her knees leaning toward him, pressing her lips to his.

Fred smiles against her lips and tugs her into his lap. Hermione goes willingly and cedes control to him. He's gentle with her, even as one of his hands works its way into her hair to guide her head.

Minutes later, he pulls away. "I won't always be so gentle, Hermione."

"I know," she replies, "but you'll always see me, won't you?"

"Always," he assures, eyes on her.

For her, it's enough.

* * *

Saint Frederick is the patron saint of the deaf.


End file.
